The Girl of Water
by kgkah123
Summary: What will happen to Finnick Odair's granddaughter when she's reaped into the 5th quarter quell? The story is better than the summary!
1. Prolouge

**I hope you can figure out who her grandmother and grandfather are! If not it will be revealed later :3**

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><p>PROLOUGE<p>

We huddled around the small screen, the 13 of us, eager and frightened about what we were about to hear. President Snow, a young man with pitch black hair and icy blue eyes, appeared on the screen sporting a cold smile. His eyes looked as hard as flint. Daddy says he's the grandson of a past President Snow, and just as evil, if not more. He says these things to me as he puts me to sleep, and then tells me to forget it, and never repeat it. Though those aren't the kinds of things you forget. He goes on this long speech about the Dark Days, when the Hunger Games began. He goes on to tell us what happened in the previous Quarter Quells. He was looking at a piece of scripted paper below him, you could tell. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it." I swallowed hard, as the fear that crept under my skin made me feel numb. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes. On the third Quarter Quell, on the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the tributes were reaped from their existing pool of victors." That was the year Katniss Everdeen won. Well, kind of, I heard. "On the fourth Quarter Quell, the 100th Anniversary, as a reminder that you can't always protect your loved ones, each person reaped must choose a family member to take their place in the games." I don't think I would be able to stand sending in one of my family. As a young boy walked up to the stage, I couldn't stop myself from shaking. He presented a box to the president, which he opened, revealing yellow sheets of paper. My heart hit my throat. He pulled out a piece of paper reading 125, and began to read. "On the one hundred twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder that adults are just as helpless as the children, one adult and one child from each district will be entered in the games."

"So, Bruny. You're the grandchild and sister of three victors. How do you feel about your odds?" He gave me a dazzling smile, and I turned to the crowd and gave a wry smile.

"Well...I figure that increases my odds a hundredfold. Three victors in my direct family...luck must be on our side." I shot a glance at Theo, who gave me an encouraging smile, so I looked directly into the camera. "But I'm not like my grandfather. Or my Grandma. Or my brother. But I do know one thing," I paused for effect. "I. Am. Going. To. Win. This." I directed my voice back to Retta, and my voice cracked. "I am going to come home."


	2. Hanging High Overhead

CHAPTER ONE:

I stared into the darkness, unblinking, unmoving. I hadn't slept at all that night, and yet I didn't feel the least bit tired. When the sun just began to peek over the horizon, I yawned and got up; I was just a few minutes behind the alarm. I wanted to get up peacefully, before the bird's early screeches jolted me forcefully out of my calm. I was careful not to wake my little sisters as I dragged myself out of the bed, but unfortunately, Mckenzie must have felt the movement; she was the lightest sleeper of us all.

"Shh," I hushed, tucking her back into bed. "It's not Uptime yet." I brushed the hair out of her face as she fell back asleep. I kissed her forehead, making her eyelids flutter, then they became still. Yes, Uptime is morning, when they sun has risen and it is time for fishing. Our family was relying on me to catch the food for the day. Midtime is when the sun is highest—the time of day we're dreading. Because today is reaping day. It was little wonder I wanted my sister to sleep as late as she could. Put it off as long as possible. They say—the rumors say—this year will be rigged. Which scares me more than anything. I remember my brother, his voice as he fought them. For me.

_"No! You can't take her! She's my sister, my little sister! Please!"_ I shook my head to clear my memory. Yeah, I've been to the capitol before. And it changed me in ways no one could ever understand. Except maybe Rueben. If he were only here. I sighed, and dragged on my boots, my coat, my net and bucket. I jumped when I felt a rough hand on my shoulder.

"You nearly scared me to death!" I whispered hoarsely. The man standing behind me gazed at me sadly, caressing my face with one finger. His curly bronze-colored hair showed through the early morning darkness.

"You look so like your mother," he said quietly. I snorted, and brushed his hand away.

"That's what you always say."  
>"But I never really appreciated it until now." I gave him a look.<p>

"Do you know something I don't, Daddy?" I asked suspiciously. He just sighed.

"Go on to work. I'll meet you in the square at Midtime." He turned and began walking over to my sisters, all crowded together on the little sleeping area. I pushed the creaky cabin door open, and went out into the sand.

I have eight sisters. Two brothers. Ten in all. There's the oldest of us, Rueben—he was the leader. One of us got hurt, we went to him. Needed help, or support, we came to him. And he treated us like he would his own children. He was fun, he was kind, he was gentle, and he made us feel happy. Until he was reaped several years ago and won. We refused to live in the Victor's Village, though there's always a spot open for us. They took him to the Capitol, four years ago, and we haven't seen him since. Things happened in between, though. Things I can't even bear to thing about. I carefully fingered the scar on my wrist, suppressing the memories.

Then there's Jerrell. He was the hardest working, always the one to get things done first. He was proud, but not overly cocky, and he got married and moved out last year, while I was at the Capitol. There's Magaly, my elder sister. She became my surrogate mother after Mama died from a sickness several years ago. She died giving birth to Retta, my youngest sister. There's Arnetta and Arletta, born a year apart and named after my mother's cousins. They did everything together, and at 13 and 12, I haven't let them take any tesserae. Latoria is 9, and loves to help. I don't think there's anything she likes more than seeing a smile on someone else's face, and she does everything she can to put it there and keep it there. She has a lot of energy, and loves to run. Barbara's 8, and she gets into all kinds of trouble. But she always has a story to tell. Jina and Mckenzie are twins, born the year before Retta. They have some kind of problem; I don't really know what else to call it. They never talk, they sometimes suddenly stop in the middle of what they're doing or saying and just stare blankly into space. They have trouble sleeping, and several times do I allow them to curl up in bed next to me. Then there's Retta—everyone in the family is overprotective of her, spoiling her every chance they get. But she's kind, even though she takes things for granted. She is only four, after all.

I think about my family often, especially my mother. I also think about what could have been. My father often told me stories; stories of what could have been. He told me stories his mother told him. He told stories of a time when, for a short while, there was peace. There was a rebellion, led by a girl named Katniss Everdeen. Before she blew up in a Capitol building along with her team. And the short spark of hope the districts had was over. The Capitol swooped right back in, and took the place back. That was how my grandfather died. I don't think I could have been more proud of him. I sighed, and walked down the beach. I got to the edge of the water, and stuck my toes in the wet sand. The waves came in, went out, and I sank a little bit. I closed my eyes.

_"Hello, Lovely. What are you doing by the water on your own?"_

_ "Sinking, Grandma. Stick your toes in the sand, and when the waves come in, you'll sink!"_

I opened them in a flash. Too many memories. When Grandma used to call me Lovely. Darling. Sweetheart. Before she stopped talking. I gasped in the sea air, suddenly desperate for escape. I pulled my feet out of the sand, stood still for a moment, and tossed the net out into the sea. Gathering it together, I pulled up several large fish. I heaved it up toward the cabin. Grandma was sitting on the little chair on the porch of the cabin. I struggled a fish out of the net, and held it up to her. It was the biggest one.

"Look, Grandma. I got this one special for you." I held it in front of her face. She stared into space, her eyes slightly out of focus. She blinked several times before her eyes fully landed on the fish. Her lips lit up in a tiny smile, and she took it carefully, holding it gently in her lap, as if it were a baby. She nodded, and I entered the cabin, where all my sisters were lined up in their dresses for this year's reaping. Magaly came up to me, holding a beautiful silk fabric. When I touched it, it felt like I was holding water. "It's beautiful," I whispered. She nodded, a small smile.

"Father wanted me to have it. But _I_ wanted _you_ to have it." I gaped at her in awe.

"But, Magaly—This is Grandma's old reaping dress!" I recognized it from their old pictures. And the fact that she told me. Magaly smiled wryly.

"You were closest to her. She would _want_ you to have it." I took it from her, holding it up.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." I hugged her tightly, the dress between us, and looked out the window, at the sun hanging high overhead.


	3. For The Best

**Sorry this was so short! I didn't have as much time. ;)**

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><p>CHAPTER TWO<p>

I felt the squeeze of a hand on mine. It was brief, but it was comforting. I stared into Magaly's deep green eyes, which Daddy often commented on how much they looked like Grandma's.

Grandma didn't want me to wear the dress; it was the one she was reaped in, so she's afraid it would bring bad luck. The nervousness of the situation creeps up on me again, but I forced myself to stay calm. So Arnetta and Arletta would be calm, too. I was the example for the three of us...I am the most likely to be chosen, considering I'm 17. The Capitol woman who was drawing the names approached the girl's bucket. Fausta, I think her name was. I suddenly let out a gasp of pain, and fell to my knees. Magaly gripped my shoulder hard, bending down to stare straight into my eyes. Her face wiggled for a moment in my vision, before coming into focus.

"Are you alright?" She asked, concern etched into her face. I gripped my lower stomach, and gritted my teeth.

"Fine," I got out. "Just a cramp...I-I think." I pullet myself to my feet.

"Are you gonna be sick?" She asked, looking suddenly scared. I shook my head, and brushed the dust off my knees. I stood up at attention, ready to hear the names. I thought my name, seconds before my thought was spoken aloud.

My head reeled, but I had been expecting it. I was also hoping I was wrong. But what is the Capitol known for? Crushing hopes. I swallowed hard and tried to move my jelly-like legs up the stairs to the stage. To look at the faces staring up all around me. To know I will probably never see any of them, ever again. Some were angry, some sad, some excited, some relieved. It took everything I had not to look at Grandma and Daddy, and Magaly or Retta, who was screaming by the other little girls, held back by a couple of peacekeepers. I was just glad it wasn't my sisters. Arnetta opened her mouth, perhaps to volunteer, but quickly closed it shut at a tiny shake of my head. Fausta reached her hand into the bowl with the boys' names. She didn't talk much, but had a grin so wide it looked surgically altered. It gave me cold chills, similar to when I fished in the winter. I tried not to look at it.

"Filiberto Kopke," she squeaked out in her Capitol accent. I felt an incredible pang in my heart when I saw the young man approach the stage. He looked older than he was. He spent long hours, usually the whole day, fishing, and he was usually tired. He had very dark circles under his eyes as he dragged himself up to the stage, two little girls wailing as they tried to run to their Daddy. I swallowed back tears. I was going back to the Capitol, which was one thing, but having to go back with someone who had children back home? It would make it all the more harder to kill him. I closed my eyes, and hoped for the best.


End file.
